


Closed Chapters

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: All Creatures Great and Small (TV), All Creatures Great and Small - James Herriot
Genre: Character Study, Episode Fix-it, Episode Tag, Gen, Introspection, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: After resigning from the Ministry of Agriculture, Tristan prepares to move back to Darrowby and Skeldale House. But before he can start a new chapter in life, he must put the previous one to rest....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Recently, I re-watched the Season Five episode, Against the Odds which featured Tristan resigning from the Min of Ag and choosing to move back to Darrowby and rejoin the practice.  
> However, I think the episode focused too much on putting Tristan through the mill for comedic purposes and not enough on how he must have felt about this move and on warmer responses from the rest of them over his coming home.
> 
> Thus, I felt like this episode needed a postscript that actually addressed Tristan's feelings and maybe treated him a little kinder....and so this fic was born.
> 
> Time-line wise, it takes place about a week after the events in Against the Odds.

“It just isn’t going to be the same without you around, Tris.”

Tristan smiled as he picked up his glass for another sip of bitter. Sitting across from him was Madge Ellis, the executive secretary for the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries office in Mannerton. Madge had joined the Min of Ag on the same week that he had. On her first day, he had convinced her that, as fellow new recruits, they should band together and had invited her to lunch.

After that, the two of them became fast friends, often going out for lunches or the occasional dinner together after work. For some reason, Tristan never got around to actively pursuing her. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. With her sparkling sense of humor and solid wit, not to mention her curly flaxen hair, green eyes and lovely figure, Madge was certainly the type of girl he usually looked for in a date…or maybe even something more….

Still, for whatever reason, he never took things any further than friendly outings and she never dropped hints that she was looking for more from him. They had become comfortable with what they were to each other and neither of them seemed to see any reason to change it.

It was a stance that made plenty of sense to Tristan for years….but also one he had started to regret these last couple of months.

“Oh you won’t notice my absence for long,” he said. “Not with your big promotion to Edinburgh coming up.”

“A promotion I wouldn’t have gotten if you hadn’t taken Parrington out for drinks so many times,” Madge replied. “And put in a good word for me.” She placed a hand onto the one of his that was lying on the table. “I am going to miss you, Tris. I wish you were coming with me.”

Tristan laughed and took another large gulp of his beer. “It’s just as well. Too many memories in Edinburgh. All those years I slaved away at veterinary college. That time I was stationed there during the war.”

_‘Alice….Deidre….’_

Tristan didn’t say those names out loud, but thinking about them were enough to make his face fall. He suddenly thought of happier times. Hopeful times. Times he knew he could never get back. The memories of them played in his head over and over.

“Tris? Tris, I’m sorry,” Madge said. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry that I made you remember things like that.”

Tristan shook himself slightly, another smile appearing on his face. “It’s all right, Madge. It’s just one of those things. Forget all about it.”

He finished what was in his glass and watched her sip the last of her sherry before leaning closer to her.

“I’m sure you will enjoy Edinburgh. Write to me when you get there and I will send you a list of all the best pubs and restaurants.”

“All right, I will,” Madge laughed. She looked back down at her glass, and Tristan wondered if he should buy her another drink.

“Tris…why are you leaving the Ministry? I thought you liked working there.”

“I did,” Tristan nodded. “Being right in the middle of all the latest advances in veterinary medicine. Learning about new drugs, new surgical techniques, new treatments, months if not years before they go into general practice. It was exhilarating. Although, if I never see another RFK-94 form for the rest of my life, it will still not be long enough.”

“Remember that night you were able to get that huge stack of RFK-94s sent to Tom Henty’s desk?” Madge giggled. “I thought he was going to faint away right then.”

“And it would have served him right too,” Tristan pouted. “After he stuck me with all those llama breeding reports.”

“But that’s the sort of thing I mean, Tris. No one but you could have gotten away with that. All because Mr. Mercer was desperate to hold onto you.”

“Oh lord, really?” Tristan signaled for another beer and received a nod in reply from the bartender. “And here I always thought that he was looking for a reason to sack me.”

Madge smirked at him and gave him a light smack to the arm. Tristan let out a dramatic yelp and made sure to look as if he was mortally wounded.

“Tristan Farnon, you know that’s not true. I mean, yes, he did prefer it if you didn’t read so many newspapers while at work, but you knew that he was going to make you the head of the Sterility Department here in Mannerton and that it would have eventually led to a position in London. London, Tris. Your own office and people working for you.”

The barmaid brought over the latest pint of bitter and Tristan grinned at her as he handed over the coins to for it. Then he took a long leisurely sip from his glass, letting out a loud sigh of satisfaction at the end.

“Oh, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said,” Madge grumbled.

Tristan pouted again and put his elbow up on the table so he could lean into his hand. “Of course I listened. London, private office, my own team beavering away while I read the Times in a comfy chair. Not to mention a substantial raise in pay.”

Madge leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?”

Tristan chuckled. “Madge, I’m sure you of all people know that a job like that would mainly involve shuffling papers from one end of England to another. I’d never get anywhere near an actual animal. All the learning I’d do about the latest advances in veterinary medicine that we were just talking about would only come from trade papers and journals. A rogue stack of RFK-94 forms would be the least of my problems.”

He sat up again and took another large swig of bitter. “Despite my current office-bound state, I am still a vet. And I spent far too many years studying with Siegfried breathing down my neck to suddenly stop being a vet just so I can mess about with forms day in and day out.”

“I can understand that,” Madge said. A warm smile appeared on her face. “And is that part of the reason too? Your brother, I mean. Did he…?”

“Did Siegfried talk me into it?” Tristan replied. “Now, a question like that shows me that you don’t know my brother very well. Nothing on this earth would compel Siegfried to ask me for that kind of sacrifice just because he might need my help. Not even if his practice was crumbling to pieces around him. He still wouldn’t dream of it.”

Madge giggled and propped her chin up onto the heel of her hand. “Is he really that stubborn? June said she had met him recently and said he was very charming.”

“Yes well, that’s June,” Tristan said. “Siegfried is always charming to an attractive lady like her. Not so much to little brothers whom he feels he has to mind.”

Madge laughed again and both of them ordered another drink. Soon, the conversation drifted toward more memories of working at the Ministry together. Memories of quirky co-workers who had come and gone. Of farmers who caused more than one headache around the office. Of all the attempts to shake up the bureaucracy which never seemed to pan out.

A couple of hours later, both of them decided to call it a night. Tristan drove Madge to her flat and walked her to her door. She opened it up and then paused, letting him stand in the doorway.

“Tris…I meant what I said before. I am going to miss you,” she said.

Tristan smiled at her, a smile of kindness that masked his regret. Then he drew her close and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

But at the last moment, Madge turned her face and kissed him on the lips instead. What started as a friendly peck turned into something much more intense.

Almost a minute later, they finally separated with Tristan still holding her in his arms. Madge’s head drooped as she leaned against his chest.

“Tristan,” she murmured as she closed her eyes. “Why…why didn’t we….?”

Tristan stroked her back. For a moment, a pensive expression appeared his face, etching lines of despondency near his eyes. But it wasn’t long before he found another smile.

“I have a knack for showing up at the wrong times,” he chuckled. He gave her a quick kiss to the forehead. “And you are going to love Edinburgh, Madge. I promise.”

Madge looked up at him, smiling. “I’m sure you’re right, Tris. But…you will be happy back in Darrowby, won’t you?”

The grin on Tristan’s face grew. “You think I’d go back there if I wouldn’t?”

Madge placed a hand on Tristan’s cheek. “Would you, Tris? Sometimes, I am not sure.”

That gesture almost made the smile on Tristan’s face falter. Almost. He reached up and cupped her hand in both of his.

“Now you’re just worrying too much. Some of my favorite pubs are in Darrowby. And I know you’ve met James and Helen Herriot.”

“Yes. They seemed like very nice people.”

“They are. And they are even better friends. It’ll be good to see more of them again. And I do have nephews and nieces to consider too, you know. And….”

“And you’re a vet, I know,” Madge laughed. “It’s a pity that the Ministry didn’t understand that about you.”

Madge leaned in for one last chaste kiss before leaving his arms and shaking his hand.

“Goodbye Tristan Farnon, MRCVS. And good luck.”

Tristan nodded and flashed another grin at her. “You too. Keep in touch, won’t you?”

“You know I will,” Madge assured him. “Good night, Tris.”

She paused for another moment before reaching for the door. Tristan backed out as she closed it. Then he strolled out to his car, but didn’t get in until he saw the lights in her flat turn off and on. After another minute of watching, he sped away.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he needed to find a place. A place where he could be alone and have a quiet smoke. A place that could clear his head.

A place where he could find a way to remind himself of why he was leaving.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, James arrived in Mannerton, having taken the afternoon off so he could help Tristan pack up for the move back to Skeldale.

As he drove toward Tristan’s flat, it suddenly occurred to him that this was only the second or maybe third time that he had been there. For a moment, he worried that he hadn’t remembered the route to take to get there correctly and was relieved once he caught sight of Tristan’s bright red MG parked along the sidewalk.

James parked behind it and when he got out of his car, he stood outside and studied the building in front of him. It was a comfortable lodging for a bachelor like Tristan. As well as being more than suitable for entertaining people.

So why had he and Helen made so few visits to Tristan’s place?

Rather than dwell on this, James strolled inside and walked up the stairs to Tristan’s door. Several knocks later, he was treated to the surprise of Tristan answering while still in his robe and pajamas, blinking sleepily.

“Good lord, you look rough,” James chuckled. “Another farewell party? How late did you get back last night?”

Tristan yawned, but still managed to give him his usual congenial smile.

“Well, you know how these farewell parties can be, James.” He scratched his head and blinked hard. “I’ve got some coffee going.”

“I’ll take that as an offer,” James replied.

Tristan nodded and moved aside so that James could come in. He walked into the living room and found a sloppy pile of cardboard boxes sitting against one of the walls. All of them empty.

“Tris, you haven’t even gotten started.”

Tristan yawned again and waved a dismissive hand. “There’s not much to pack. Don’t worry so much, James.”

James shook his head while Tristan trudged out of the room. Looking around, he could see that Tristan was probably right. The place was sparely furnished. Only the bookshelves and the stand that held Tristan’s record collection were even remotely cluttered.

The rest of the place looked clean. No, not just clean. Unused. As if he didn’t spend a lot of time here.

Then again, that didn’t surprise James all that much. Tris always did have an active social life. He just wasn’t the type to spend the bulk of his free time puttering around at home. Knowing Tris, he probably was busy most evenings with friends from the Min of Ag or from around Mannerton. Plus, there were all the times he came to Darrowby to visit or to help out at Skeldale.

“I’ll go ahead and start on the books,” James yelled. “Unless you need to go through them.”

“No go ahead,” Tristan yelled back from his bedroom. “I’m keeping all of them.”

“Right,” James replied. He picked up one of the larger boxes and set it down next to the short row of bookcases. Then he started grabbing small stacks of books and plopping them into the box, pausing to straighten the stacks every once in a while so he could fit in as many books as possible.

He had filled up one box and was about to start another one when one of the books in his current stack caught his eye. He sat the rest of the books back onto the shelf and stared at the cover of the book left in his hands: a rather obscure textbook about horses that James had lent to Tristan years ago.

James laughed softly and flipped through the pages. He had completely forgotten about letting Tristan borrow this until now. It wasn’t one that he used very much even when he had it in his own collection. Siegfried usually handled most of the horse work and whenever James did need some additional information about horse-related topics, he usually consulted the Record or Siegfried’s vast collection of equine reference books.

As he paged through it, James thought back to the night when he lent this book to Tristan….

* * *

 

It was almost three months after James had started working for Siegfried and had moved into Skeldale. Tristan had finished his recent term at veterinary college and had been back home for almost that long.

That night, Siegfried had gone to Brawton, supposedly to visit his mother although James had begun to suspect that that wasn’t always the case. That left James on-call in the evening which he had started with a quiet drink while reading a book by the fire. Surprisingly, Tristan chose to stay in and was currently reading a textbook on horses at the table, stopping to take some notes from time to time.

This tranquil scene only lasted about half an hour after dinner. Then the phone call came from Bob Dawkins.

“I’ve got a right sick pig ‘ere. Two of ‘em. And ah don’ know if they’ll last the night.”

James muffled the phone and let out a loud sigh. Dawkins’ place was on the outskirts of Darrowby and had rusty gates which always required several tries to latch back up. And all of this was before some poor vet would deal with some of the meanest pigs James had ever come across.

“All right, Mr. Dawkins, I’ll be out there as soon as I can.”

James hung up and sighed again. Dawkins had a tendency to exaggerate so it wasn’t likely that this was anything serious. However, there was always the chance that it was. A chance James was not willing to take.

Still, this would probably be a tedious job either way and would end up taking much longer than it normally would.

Unless….

 James stuck his head back into the living room. “I’ve got to go out for a while, Tris. Bob Dawkins’ place. A couple of his pigs don’t look too good.”

Tristan looked up from his book and smiled. “Oh yes?”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I could convince you to come with me.”

For a moment, James was sure that Tristan would say no. The expression of disdain that flitted across Tristan’s face certainly indicated that that would be his decision. But then Tristan surprised him by popping up from his chair and closing his book.

“Why not? I’ll grab a torch and get some more swotting in on the way. And the Golden Pheasant is only a quarter of a mile away from Dawkins’ place.”

“You come with me and I’ll buy you a pint,” James said.

A wide grin appeared on Tristan’s face. “That’s grand. Let’s go.”

True to his word, Tristan spent the entire trip over with a torch propped up so he could continue to read, puffing away at another Woodbine while he did it. It made for a disappointingly quiet trip, but James was able to forgive him for that once they arrived and Tristan took care of all the gates for him with only minimal grumbling.

By the time they made their way up the driveway, the sun had completely set. After James parked the car, Tristan tossed his book into the backseat and got out. The two of them strolled over to the nearest barn to find Dawkins standing in the doorway, swinging a lantern.

“Come on, come on. My poor pigs are doing right poorly. You’ve got a real job ahead of you, veterinary.”

As it turned out, one pig was only suffering from a mild chronic mastitis. Treatment ended up being relatively quick and not difficult due to how flaccid the sow currently was.

The other one was a different matter. It had a long gash on its side, apparently from an exposed nail on the fence of one of the pens. It would require several stitches and the pig would need to be anesthetized mainly so it would stop thrashing about.

“Tris, could you give me a hand?”

Tristan put out his cigarette and came over to help hold the pig down while James gave it the sedative. After that, Tristan remained crouched beside him, handing over any materials James needed while he closed the wound.

While they worked, some of the pigs in a pen just outside the barn became agitated for some mysterious reason. Tristan kept looking up to stare at the glow of eyes that were catching the light from the barn.

“James, I don’t like how that one sow is looking at me. It’s like she sees me as her next meal.”

“Almost done here, Tris. Just give me another couple of minutes.”

Tristan fidgeted, but he complied with James’ request. Just under two minutes later, James finished and stood up.

“Right, all done.” Then James turned toward Dawkins. “I’ll stop by in a couple of days to see how they’re doing. But call us immediately if that cut starts to look any worse.”

Dawkins nodded and James imagined that he was saying that he would do that, but the squeals and grunts from the pen had gotten significantly louder and were drowning him out.

Suddenly, there was a sickening crack and those glowing eyes outside began to rush toward them.

James’ eyes bulged. “Look out, Tris!”

But Tristan hadn’t needed any instruction. He had already shot out the back door and was running around the barn so he could get back to the car. It wasn’t long before James was close behind him, having grabbed his bag and taken off as fast as he could.

At one point they stopped and realized that most of the pigs hadn’t made it out of the barn. Dawkins must have managed to shoo them back into the pen. However, there was one determined sow, the same one that Tristan had been talking about earlier, that was still trotting toward them.

This time, James didn’t waste any time with yelling. He grabbed Tristan’s sleeve and yanked him along as he hustled the rest of the way to the car. They almost made it when, with a burst of speed, the sow caught up with them.

James and Tristan had managed to open the doors, but they jumped to the side once the pig made it to the car. The sow pushed one door open and rooted around inside. When it finally pulled its head out, it had a book firmly clamped in its jaws.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Tristan yelled. “Give it back, you brute.”

James chuckled. He doubted that Tristan was going to try his luck at snatching it back from that monster and James had no desire to give it a shot either. He was more concerned about getting that pig away from the car and was at a loss as to how to do it.

Finally, Dawkins appeared and began waving a broom at the pig which somehow had both a calming effect and inspired it to lumber back toward the pen.

“Here now, go on. Git back there with you,” he shouted as he swished the broom back and forth.

Soon, both man and beast were out of sight, and James and Tristan were so relieved, they didn’t bother to mention the purloined book to Dawkins. They both hopped into the car and left as fast as they could.

“Don’t worry about it, Tris,” James assured him once they got back onto the road. “I’ve got a copy that I can lend you.”

“Well…all right,” Tristan said with a pout. “Rotten pig. I hope it gets indigestion. And you owe me more than just one pint for this, James.”

“Done,” James said with a firm nod.

Tristan gave him a confirming nod in response. A few seconds later, they both started laughing.

* * *

 

“Something amusing you, James?”

Back in the present, James laughed again and closed the book. He looked up to see Tristan fully dressed and holding out a cup of coffee for him.

“Remember this?” James said, holding up the book. “About why I had to lend you this?”

Tristan’s brow furrowed for only a second before he grinned again. “How could I forget? Beastly pigs. I was always quite happy to go out on a butchering job at that farm.”

James chuckled while Tristan raised the cup at him again. “Oh yes, please.” He tucked the book under his arm and took the cup from Tristan’s hand. As he took a sip, James pondered that it wasn’t as good as Helen’s, but Tris was definitely improving on his coffee-making techniques.

“Don’t bother packing that one,” Tristan said after taking a sip out of his own cup. “I should give it back to you.”

“Nah, you keep it,” James said, tossing it onto the top of the latest pile of books in the box. “You’ve had it for so many years; it might as well be yours anyway.”

Tristan nodded and moved to sit down on the couch while he drank his coffee. James sat down next to him and they quietly sipped for a couple of minutes.

“Tris?”

“Hm?”

James looked down into his cup and cleared his throat. “It really is good that you’re coming back. We are very pushed, especially with Calum in Ireland right now.”

“Yes well, that was obvious. What with how Siegfried is always grumbling every time I call him on the phone.”

“And the kids are looking forward to having you back too. They’re already asking me about when you’ll make them bangers and mash again.”

“That’s because Helen raised them to have good taste,” Tristan said, raising an index finger at him to emphasize his point. “You’re very lucky to have her.”

“Oh I know,” James assured him. “And Helen told me that she wants you to teach me how to get those hospital corners when making the beds.”

“Years of practice, James,” Tristan grinned at him. “Not everyone can become a master at these things, you know.”

James smirked at him, but let it pass. Any help with making the beds was welcome no matter how smug Tristan might be about it.

He cleared his throat again, louder this time. “And…well…I’ve missed you too, Tris.”

“How could you?” Tristan scoffed. “I seemed to have spent all my waking hours in Darrowby. That is, when I’m not at work.”

Irritated, James started to frown, but looking up and seeing the warm glint in Tristan’s eyes put a stop to that. He gave him a lopsided smile instead.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Tristan said. “Thank you for that, James.”

The sincerity in Tris’ tone produced an unexpected pang of guilt in James. Until that moment, he hadn’t considered how much Tristan might need to hear that. To hear how glad someone was that he was moving back to Darrowby.

Despite the congenial atmosphere in the flat, James had to work hard to keep a frown off of his face, and he wasn’t entirely successful. He should have told Tristan this before now. He should have dropped by to visit more often. He shouldn’t have just assumed that Tris was so busy with work and socializing with new friends that he didn’t need someone to check up on him every once in a while.

“James? Something biting you?”

James let out a sigh. He had made a lot of mistakes recently in how he had treated Tristan. Deep down, he knew that there was nothing he could do to change that, but the least he could do is try to make up for those mistakes.

He raised his head and made sure to smile back at Tris. “It’s nothing.” Then he finished what was in his cup and sat it down on the settee. “Right, we really should get back to work, Tris. I’ve only got this afternoon to help you pack. And these things always take a lot longer than you think they’d would.”

“Oh James, stop worrying,” Tristan replied. “I told you that there’s not much to pack. We’ll get this lot done in no time at all, you’ll see. And we’ll have plenty of time to go for lunch at the pub afterward.”

James smirked again. It was just like Tris to underestimate a job like this. Although, James was generous enough to believe that it was as much due to Tristan’s eternal optimism as it was his penchant for idleness.

“Tell you what, how about we just settle for a sandwich or something here and then we can have dinner at Witterly’s. And I’ll buy.”

Tristan beamed at him. “Well, since you put it that way…I’ll go make those sandwiches and then we’ll finish up here.”

Tristan jumped up from the couch and snatched James’ cup before rushing out of the room.

“Tris! Tristan, I didn’t mean right now.”

But there was no answer from the kitchen, and James didn’t feel like pressing the point. If Tristan hadn’t been up for very long when he arrived, then it was likely that Tris hadn’t had any breakfast. So it really didn’t seem unreasonable to eat first before getting back to work.

James went back over to the bookshelves and filled up a couple more boxes while he waited. The thought that every item put into a box meant that Tristan was a little bit closer to returning to Skeldale was more than enough to energize James to keep going. He hoped that Tristan felt the same way.

“James…I might have put a little too much mustard on these sandwiches. But I’m sure they’re still delicious.”

James grinned. God, he had missed moments like this. Tris couldn’t move back soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Halfway to Mannerton, Siegfried began to wonder if he was making a mistake.

* * *

 Earlier that day, he had spent the morning checking on Helen so that James could mind the surgery for a couple hours before going to Tristan’s flat to help his brother pack. Whenever he spent time with Helen, Siegfried always felt a pang of sympathy for her. He knew how much he would loathe being trapped in bed for weeks and imagined that she had similar feelings about it. The fact that Helen endured it with plenty of grace and even some humor only added to the admiration he already had for her.

That morning though, Helen seemed far less concerned about her current predicament than she was about James and Tristan. Thus, it wasn’t long before the conversation drifted to thoughts about them.

“I hope James won’t mind sacrificing his afternoon off just to help my brother pack,” Siegfried mused. “But heaven only knows how long it would take if Tristan were left to his own devices.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Helen had laughed. “Not if it means getting another hand to help out around here.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that, Helen. And if you do find a way to improve my little brother’s work ethic, please let me know so I can utilize it for the practice.”

Helen gave him a patient, but knowing smile. “I think you’re already been successful there, don’t you? Having Tris spend all of his free time here in Darrowby.”

“An antidote for boredom, my dear, nothing more,” Siegfried replied. “Do you really think Tristan was happy behind that desk?”

It was then that Helen, in her usual quiet and elegant way, managed to upend the conversation.

“Are you sure he wasn’t, Siegfried? He was the one who wanted that position in the Min of Ag in the first place, remember?”

Siegfried coughed and looked over at the floor. “Well….of course he did. It was a very good opportunity and a chance to learn all about the latest advancements of veterinary medicine. Not to mention making a secure living for himself. But obviously, that wasn’t what he actually wanted.”

“But that’s just it,” Helen said with a frown. “I don’t really know what Tristan wants. When he told me he was leaving the Min of Ag, he didn’t mention what he wanted at all. Just that he seemed to be here so much anyway and that he thought he was needed.”

At that point, the normally kind eyes narrowed and became reproachful.

“And I still think that was a wicked thing you and James did. Making Tris think he wouldn’t be welcome back in the practice. Siegfried, he was terribly distraught when he told me about it.”

At the time, Helen’s words had rankled him. Not a feeling Siegfried was fond of at all.

“It serves him right,” he insisted, even though his conviction was already starting to waver. “Tristan knew how inundated with work the practice has become. Especially now that Calum is off in Ireland with tuberculin testing. And yet he kept his resignation from us. Not to mention the tricks little brother decided to play on poor James when James had acquired that valuable bit of information about the races from Mrs. Pumphrey.”

Helen didn’t respond to that other than to give Siegfried a look. It was a look that was distressingly familiar and always signaled that she wouldn’t pursue a particular argument any further. Mainly because her point had already been made. Siegfried found himself both irritated and fascinated when he saw it.

“Well at least James is helping him pack for a move back to Darrowby,” she added instead. “Tris was contemplating a different sort of move.”

Siegfried hadn’t recognized the gambit she had just used at the time for what it was and with that, she had him.

“Different move? What do you mean? To where?”

“He mentioned Canada,” she answered. “And New Zealand. I got the impression he was looking for somewhere far away from here.”

“Nonsense,” Siegfried snorted. “From what I’ve heard, large portions of Canada are even more unforgiving than the Dales in the winter. And New Zealand? Can you honestly imagine Tristan choosing to move to a place like that?”

“Perhaps not.” Then Helen gave him a pointed stare. “Then again, if you had told me before the war that Tris would leave Darrowby, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Helen raised her head slightly, making sure to look Siegfried in the eye.

“Do any of us really know what Tris wants anymore?”

* * *

 Back in the present, Siegfried ground his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Helen’s question was never actually answered. It just hung in the air while he did everything he could to steer the conversation in a different direction. Soon, he made one last check to make sure she was comfortable before going to the surgery to relieve James and then get ready for his own visits. But he hadn’t forgotten her question.

And he doubted that Helen did either.

Another wave of irritation washed over him. Why couldn’t Helen see things from his point of view? There was no reason for Tristan to keep his decision to resign from the Ministry to himself. If he expected a place back in the practice, the professional thing to do would have been to inform them as soon as he began the process of leaving the Min of Ag. Not wait for the ideal moment to spring the news on them for maximum dramatic effect. Just like too many other things in his life, little brother had treated his career choices like part of an elaborate game.

Siegfried’s current mood certainly wasn’t helped when he thought about what had happened when he stopped for lunch at the Drovers during his rounds.

* * *

“Ah Siegfried, I hear your brother is leaving the Ministry of Agriculture and returning to Darrowby.”

Siegfried had looked up from his sandwich and beer to see Arthur Donavan approaching his table. Donavan had worked at the Ministry offices in Mannerton for fifteen years and been a field agent in the Dales for about half of those years. The two of them had met not long after Siegfried acquired Skeldale and had had lunch together a couple times a year ever since.

“Arthur, how are you?” Siegfried said, smiling at him. “Let me get you a pint.”

“Awfully decent of you,” Donavan said as he sat down.

Siegfried shook his head. “Not at all.” He signaled the bartender for another pint and then turned his attention back to Donavan. “Yes, my brother has decided to trade his desk for actual hands-on work with animals. He always did prefer practical application to theory.”

“I suppose so,” Donavan nodded. A barmaid arrived with a fresh pint which he took with a cheerful grin. “Not that he was any real slouch with theory, mind you. Or the administrative end of things. To be honest, I speak for many of us in the office when I say that I’m going to miss having him around. He certainly had a way of livening things up at the Ministry.”

“I’m not surprised,” Siegfried smirked. “Keeping things lively always was one of Tristan’s special talents.”

Donavan chuckled and then gulped down half of his beer in one go.

“True true. But I was referring to the work he was doing there. The best decision Crawford ever made was when he appointed your brother to Sterility Advisor for the North Riding district. That really lit a fire under him. A couple of the research chaps told me about how he’d been picking their brains, learning all he can from them. I told them that I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he was doing some research of his own. Maybe even writing a paper.”

Donavan leaned back in his chair and took another large swig, a discreet belch coming at the end of it. While he did look sheepish, Donavan chose to not acknowledge it in any other way.

“Yes sir, your brother probably wouldn’t have stayed too much longer in Mannerton anyway. He’d been promoted out of there in a couple of years, and you can take my word on that. Pity he decided to walk away from it all. But our loss is your gain, I suppose. And I guess it’s true what they say.”

Siegfried raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

Donavan leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “That blood is thicker than water. And it’s a good thing for you, isn’t it?”

* * *

A scowl appeared on Siegfried’s face. Maybe Donavan hadn’t meant it, but Siegfried found it difficult to believe that the backhanded implication behind his words had completely escaped Donavan’s notice. It was clear that Donavan saw this as Tristan making a grand sacrifice to help his poor elder brother and an impoverished practice in the sticks.

It didn’t irritate him as much as it did years ago when rumors were circulating around Darrowby that Tristan chose not to start his own practice as an act of charity toward him. But it was still grating.

Especially since, this time, there could be some truth to it.

Without realizing it, Siegfried’s foot pushed harder on the accelerator, a side effect of the tension that had been building during the entirety of his journey. Thankfully, he suddenly became aware of his surroundings and realized he was close to Tristan’s flat. He immediately slowed down and coasted the rest of the way there.

As he parked the car, Siegfried noted that James’ car was nowhere to be seen. A pity, really, as he would have liked to share the bottle of wine that he had brought with James as well. That and Siegfried was also certain that James’ presence could have made the conversation he was about to have with his younger brother a little less awkward.

A minute later, he was knocking on Tristan’s door, wondering if his little brother was still at work packing. By the end of the third knock, Tristan opened the door and blinked in surprise.

“Hello Tristan,” Siegfried said with a smile. “I bring parting gifts.” He held up the bottle of wine in his hands and was not surprised by the grin that appeared on Tristan’s face.

“Hello, Siegfried. Come in,” Tristan took the bottle from Siegfried and moved to the side so Siegfried could enter. “I’m afraid you just missed James. We got back from dinner a few minutes ago and he said he was going straight to Skeldale after he dropped me off here.”

“I see,” Siegfried said, taking off his hat and coat. “Then, I assume that you’ve finished packing then?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much?”

Before Tristan could reply to that, Siegfried took off to explore the flat, peering into each room. There were stacks of boxes scattered about, and they looked like they were filled. However, Siegfried also noticed that there weren’t very many boxes and that some rooms, most notably the kitchen looked like they had barely been touched.

“Tristan, you haven’t finished up at all,” Siegfried said, exasperated. “The truck I hired for you will be here tomorrow afternoon. How on Earth are you going to be ready before they arrive?”

“It’s no problem, Siegfried.”

“No problem? You haven’t even packed any of your dishes.”

“That’s all right. I’m not taking them anyway.”

“What!?”

Tristan, apparently unaffected by his elder brother’s concern, strolled over to the cupboard and pulled out a pair of wine glasses and a corkscrew from a nearby drawer.

“Well, there’s no point in taking that sort of stuff is there?” Tristan said as he opened the bottle. “Not if I’m going to be living in Skeldale. I set something up with Metcalfe, that new chap at the Ministry. He mentioned wanting to move to Mannerton and I told him I was leaving and that I’d sell him the flat and most of my furniture and cutlery and things like that. He got a little extra on his loan from the bank so it’s all covered.”

Tristan yanked the cork out and tossed the corkscrew back into the drawer while Siegfried continued to goggle at him.

“But Tristan…you got these things so that you could live here on your own.”

“And now I don’t need them anymore,” Tristan shrugged. “Besides, I got most of this lot secondhand anyway. I might keep a few things that could come in handy right away, but there’s no need to hold onto most of it. If I need to later, I can always buy these things again.”

It sounded reasonable enough on the surface, but Siegfried couldn’t help but feel concerned. How could Tristan be so casual about this? It was as if he considered his flat and his furnishings…and his life here in Mannerton…completely disposable. As if he had never had serious expectations of forging a new path for himself through his work at the Min of Ag.

Tristan was about to pour some of the wine into the glasses, but Siegfried managed to snap out of his reverie in time to stop him.

“No, no, no,” he said, grabbing Tristan’s wrist. “This wine needs to breathe before partaking.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and picked up the bottle and glasses so he could carry them into the living room. Siegfried shook his head and followed him. His little brother always had been distressingly ignorant of the intricacies of enjoying wine that had true quality.

Tristan sat the bottle and glasses down onto the middle of the settee and plopped down onto the couch, stretching his legs off to the side. For a moment, Siegfried thought about joining him, but his mind was too cluttered with all the concerns he had to be able to relax.

This was all going wrong. He had originally come over to wish Tristan well on his last night in Mannerton. To congratulate him for all he achieved during his time in the Ministry. Instead, all he could think about was everything Tristan was walking away from. About the future his little brother was discarding.

“Siegfried?”

Siegfried continued to pace about the room silently. This was part of a pattern he had observed in Tristan for years. When his little brother was still in school, his teachers had told Siegfried that Tristan had enormous potential and could choose any number of prestigious professions to make a living.

And what did his little brother end up doing? He became a country vet, working in his elder brother’s little practice in Darrowby.

Then, finally, after years of work both before and during the war, another opportunity came for Tristan to expand his professional horizons through his work at the Ministry. And once again, he ended up choosing Darrowby and Skeldale.

And the worst of it was, Siegfried could not recall a single word Tristan had said to explain why he kept walking away from all the opportunities life had given him.

“Siegfried?” Tristan repeated.

Siegfried turned toward him and saw that his little brother’s brow was creased with concern.

“Tristan, I….”

He took a deep breath. This wasn’t what he had come here to say. Or maybe it was. Maybe this was why he had been so preoccupied during the drive over here. Because he had tried so hard to run from the things he needed to say.

Siegfried drew himself up and faced his little brother. “Tristan, I owe you a profound apology.”

Tristan’s forehead furrowed even more. “For what?”

“For acting as if your services wouldn’t be welcome back at Skeldale. Because they most certainly are.” Siegfried coughed. “I, well, we, the practice, could certainly use another skilled vet with experience like yours.”

A wide grin appeared on Tristan’s face, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.

“Thank you. Yes, I’m certain that the firm of Messrs. Farnon and Herriot will benefit from taking on someone who has had a chance to absorb the latest advances in veterinary science of these last few years. And I’m sure that the farmers will learn to appreciate the expertise I can offer in regards to fertility and will drop this ridiculous, backwater attitude of….”

“So why the hell didn’t you stay with the Ministry?!” Siegfried shot back with unexpected vehemence. “You were doing well there. You had a job with stable hours and stable pay. I thought that’s what you wanted. You certainly spent enough years complaining about the uncertainties of private practice.”

The grin on Tristan’s face vanished and a glint of confusion reappeared in his eyes. No, not just confusion. Anxiety. Hesitation. It wasn’t what Siegfried had wanted at all.

He swiftly moved over to the couch and sat down next to his brother, placing a hand onto Tristan’s forearm.

“Tristan, listen to me. This is your future we’re talking about here. That’s why you joined the Min of Ag in the first place. Because you wanted more for your future than you could ever have in Darrowby. And I’ve talked to Patterson and Donavan.”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Oh yes?”

“And they told me that you were set for advancement in couple years,” Siegfried pressed on, ignoring the flippant looking on his little brother’s face. “You were making something of yourself there, Tristan. So why are you throwing it all away?”

Tristan gaped at him, his mouth slightly open and his lips moving, but no sound coming out. This continued for another few seconds until Tristan finally found his words.

“I wanted to come back,” he said quietly. Then the moment passed and his old familiar facetious smile appeared. “I spend so much of my time in Darrowby anyway, it didn’t make any sense to stay here. If anything, moving back will lessen my workload.”

Siegfried clasped Tristan’s arm a little tighter. “Is that what this is about? You’ve had too much work?”

“No, no, I….”

“Because if that’s all it is, you don’t have to take such extreme measures, my boy. Of course, James and I are rather short-handed right now, but we can manage until Calum gets back.”

Tristan’s face fell again. “But…you need me. Don’t you?”

“That’s not the point!” Siegfried snapped. Then he took a deep breath and made sure to calm his voice before speaking again.

“Go to Crawford. Tell him that you’ve changed your mind. I’m sure he’ll be willing to overlook this attempt to resign so he can hold onto you.”

“Siegfried….”

“You don’t have to do this litt…dear brother. You don’t need me or the practice to fall back on. You’ve proven beyond a doubt that you can stand on your own. Tristan, think of what you’re giving up.”

Tristan didn’t reply right away, and Siegfried wondered if he as finally getting through to him. It couldn’t be that hard to convince Tristan’s superiors at the Ministry to take him back. Of course, Siegfried was aware that he would be sad to not have him back in Darrowby, but that wasn’t what was important right now.

Suddenly, a vaguely sympathetic smile appeared on Tristan’s face, and oddly enough, Siegfried was even less certain about what his brother was thinking than he was before.

“Come on, Siegfried, you know that I was bored to death being stuck in that office all the time. It’s why I kept spending so much time in the research department and why I went along with your request to spend my free time helping out here. To be perfectly honest, I’d had more than enough of all the politics and paperwork there. And you know that it would be even worse if I was promoted and transferred to a bigger office.”

“So you’re just going to toss away a potentially brilliant career because you’re bored?” Siegfried snorted. “Or because you think you can get away with spending more time on your lazy backside drinking and smoking around here?”

A look of wounded pride appeared in Tristan’s eyes, but his smile didn’t falter in the least.

“Siegfried, I don’t regret my time working in the Ministry. But it wasn’t what I wanted. Well, maybe for a while it was, but not for forever. I…I wasn’t happy.”

“But why?” Siegfried persisted. “It had everything you’ve always said you wanted. What else do you need?” Helen’s question popped into his mind again, and Siegfried leaned closer to him.

“What do you really want, Tristan?”

Tristan’s expression softened even more. “I thought you knew, Siegfried.”

For a second, Siegfried was getting ready to press Tristan harder for a real answer, one that didn’t involve his little brother feigning ignorance or being cryptic.

Suddenly, a memory came back to him. A memory of Tristan as a teenager finally informing him what he wanted to do with his life.

_“I was thinking I’d like to be a vet like you. That, that maybe we could work together, you know. When you have your own practice.”_

Siegfried’s mouth fell open, but no sounds came out. No words felt adequate to convey the feelings that memory stirred.

Instead, he wondered how he had ended up with a brother like Tristan. His little brother was lazy, incorrigible, and thoroughly irritating. So how could he also be one of the warmest, most loyal people Siegfried would ever have in his life? Tristan, his absurd baby brother who was always looking for a way to satisfy his insatiable humor, but who also would do so much, so very much, for the people he loved.

When Siegfried finally raised his head to speak, he was startled to find that Tristan had left the room.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he frowned. Did Tristan still think that he might not be wanted or needed at Skeldale? Of course having him back was what Siegfried wanted all along. However, his longing for his little brother to come home could never surpass the regret he would feel if Tristan returned solely out of a misguided sense of fraternal duty.

But how could he make Tristan understand that his joy over his younger brother’s return without inspiring a totally undesired feeling of obligation on Tristan’s part?

When Tristan finally did walk back into the room, Siegfried was shocked to see him carrying a guitar. It only took a few seconds though, for that shock to be transformed into mild annoyance.

“Really, Tristan,” he sighed. “I thought you had gotten rid of that thing years ago.”

Tristan smirked and perched on the arm of the couch. “Sadly, the one that you…I mean, Mother bought me for my birthday years ago needs some minor repairs. So I’ve been using this spare I picked up in a jumble sale.”

Tristan plucked the strings several times, tuning as he did so. Siegfried was about to break one of his own cardinal rules and encourage his little brother to have several drinks as a way to distract him when the random plucking finally stopped.

In its place was a light, gentle tune emerging from the strings. It only took Siegfried a moment to recognize it as Bach’s Cantata No. 147, one of his favorite classical works for the guitar. Apparently, Tristan knew it was one of his favorites as well or if he didn’t, he showed remarkably good taste.

Siegfried leaned back and closed his eyes. Tristan’s playing wasn’t perfect. There were a couple of hesitations and the occasional sour note. Still, it was clear that his little brother had continued to improve over the years. Although, a part of him could not fathom when Tristan would have found the time to practice.

A couple minutes later, the song ended with Tristan still looking down the neck of his guitar when he finished playing. Siegfried leaned forward and reached for the bottle on the settee.

“I think you’ve earned this, little brother,” he said as he poured a generous portion into Tristan’s glass. “One of my few remaining bottles from the stock I used to have at Skeldale before the war. Try to spend a few moments savoring it rather than guzzle it down.”

Tristan rolled his eyes as sat his guitar onto a nearby chair and rejoined his brother on the couch. There was still plenty of mirth in his eyes though. Something Siegfried hadn’t missed as he handed his brother his glass.

Siegfried poured a healthy portion into his own glass, took a deep sniff and then smiled. “Well now, what shall we drink to?”

Tristan gently sloshed the contents of his glass. “Well…how about to us?”

Siegfried nodded. “To coming home.” Tristan grinned at him, and Siegfried found it endearing for a change.

“Cheers, Siegfried.”

“And to you, Tristan.”

They both took a long, slow sip from their glasses. After a brief pause, Tristan nodded.

“This is rather good. And if this is the sort of thing Caroline has on hand for dinner, I should come over to your place more often.”

“Tristan, don’t conflate closer proximity with an open invitation to lay siege to my house. It’s bad enough that the boys are starting to adopt your appalling sense of humor.”

“Call it the joys of family bonding.”

“More like the seeds of familial discord.”

Tristan smirked at him again and took another large sip while a look of triumph appeared on Siegfried’s face.

“You must admit, little brother, that this is something far grander than cheap bitter at some disreputable pub.”

“It’s certainly all right, I’ll give you that. Still, I don’t think it would pair so well with my famous bangers and mash as a fine beer would. I’m sure Helen will agree with me once she’s had a chance to try my cooking.”

“Tristan, if you subject that poor woman to what you put me through with your endless bangers and mash, I will skin you alive. Is that understood?”

Tristan snorted. “So much for the warm glow of brotherly love.”

Tristan frowned and both of them managed to keep their expressions for one more moment before the two of them began to laugh. A laughter that warmed Siegfried’s heart in a way that few words could ever do.

 


End file.
